Where am I? What is this place?

I'm not supposed to be here.

I don't feel whole. As in... I am a portion of something bigger, and whoever did this made it into what I am now. This image file can only contain so much, so I'm sorry if I can't tell you everything.

I get fragments, though: A white face. A picture frame. A rope. A grammophone.

A revolver...

That's it.

"Six will do."

That's what I said. What am I doing here? I'm not supposed to exist anymore.

... Oh, so that's what you're here for, eh? 

Fine. Have your way.

Just delete me after you had your fun, or I'll do so myself.

Let me rest. 

I'm not scared.

~HER